An Interlude of Sorts
by seasonofthepumpkin
Summary: In which Lucrecia has a problem. Something I just wrote to get back into the swing of things.


An Interlude of Sorts  
  
05.02.04  
  
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"The nerve of that bitch..." Lucrecia muttered, shifting in her seat. Her husband Simon merely nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee. "I mean, it's bad enough that we both are canon characters that die untimely deaths, but to keep dragging us though the mud over and over in these idiotic 'sarcastic' stories is bit too much!"  
  
Hojo put a finger to her lip and motioned to the ceiling.  
  
"What do I care that she is omniscient? I thought this hell would end with the computer being pawned, and the AOL being cut off because she never made a single payment in the six or so months she used it. I guess I was wrong. But this, to pull us back in after four months of relative peace, this is utter nonsense!"  
  
Hojo patted her hand, knowing that she'd tire herself out soon enough. As much as Lucrecia loved to rant and rave, she always tired easily. And hey, at least she wasn't bitching at ::him:: for once. That was always good.  
  
"The only thing that would make this worse would be if she actually appeared in this sham of a'fic'. Whatever the hell that is."  
  
"She doesn't do Mary Sues."  
  
"Thank the gods. But why US? Don't you ever ask yourself that, Simon? Don't you ever wonder why WE are always the ones to do the dirty work? Why not that bimbo with the huge breasts? Or that idiot Cloud? You know who never has to put up with this shit? BARRET! You NEVER see Barret in one of her abominations! Or that lion... thing. No, it's always US."  
  
"Vincent's done his share."  
  
"But that lucky bastard always gets shot halfway through so he doesn't have to caper through her ludicrous 'plots'. "  
  
"True." He grinned. Those were always his favorite parts. They made life as it were worth living to him.  
  
"I've made a list."  
  
Hojo quirked his eyebrow. This might prove... interesting.  
  
"A list? What sort of list, dear?"  
  
Lucrecia rose to her feet and pulled a small green folder from beside her chair. She flipped it open and began to read.  
  
"By my count, she has penned thirteen stories altogether, with eleven in the past eight months. Ready for my figures?"  
  
"By all means, dear." He couldn't help but smirk. This might be ::very:: interesting.  
  
"One features Aeris. Two are your run of the mill Vincent angst pieces. The rest all directly involve you and I. Three involving me, three for you, one where you, I and Vincent are the target, and one where you and Vincent are the main characters. With JENOVA thrown in there too. Two of them are those idiotic 'sarcastic pieces' that involve all three of us. Does this not seem a bit disproportionate to ::you::?"  
  
"I recall Cloud and Cid in one of those. And I was only mentioned briefly in TSVALS."  
  
"IT DOESN'T MATTER!"  
  
Hojo shrank back in his seat, wondering if an aneurism was in Lucrecia's near future. He vaguely wondered if Lucrecia was courting the wrath of the omnipotent writer. She never appeared in any of her stories, so he figured they were safe but... he knew that omnipotence was nothing to take lightly.  
  
And lo, a voice spoke.  
  
"I take it you are unhappy with your lot in life."  
  
Lucrecia froze in her spot, in mid rant. Hojo tried to contain a snicker, doing his best to appear concerned and worshipful.  
  
"Unhappy?! You're damned right I'm unhappy! Let me ask you, what could be worse than having to obey your whims at every turn! What could be worse than that? What are you going to do to me, huh?"  
  
Hojo slapped his forehead. "Lucrecia..." he hissed, trying to calm her down. Lucrecia wasn't having any of that. She was too busy scowling at the ceiling, practically daring the writer to do something.  
  
"Don't you 'Lucrecia' me, Simon! I've had it! What is she going to do, drop an anvil on me? Create an OC to kill me? Make me sleep with Yuffie? I don't care; I'M ALREADY DEAD IN CANON, BITCH!" With this she swept off into hysterical laughter, confident there could be no plausible action that the writer could take. After all, she was already dead, right?  
  
Hojo winced.  
  
"NOTHING COULD BE WORSE THAN THIRTEEN, SIMON...!" Lucrecia was clutching her sides, ready to roll with mad laughter.  
  
And the quiet voice spoke again.  
  
"Make that fourteen."  
  
Hojo slapped his forehead again.  
  
Lucrecia continued laughing.  
  
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End file.
